RV's Collection of BuTy Bromance Moments
by Rumpelstiltskin und Vladimir
Summary: Our collection of stupid, silly, fluffy bromance stuffs between Burt and Tyler. Likely written by one or the other of us, not both. Who knows. Enjoy! -cover drawn by Rumpy-
1. Coldness

**GUYS, LOOKIT WHAT RUMPY WROTE FER ME. I'm having serious Tremors fanfiction withdrawals ('cause yes, even we writers sometimes like to just read crap we ain't written), and demanded (begged, really) her to write me something last night. Preferably Burt and Tyler stupid silly bromance stuffs. She did it tonight. And I LOVE IT. It's so cute. And she said she'd write more. I'M EXCITED. And jealous, 'cause I seriously suck at writing b/romance things (or even dreaming them up, really), anD SHE'S SO GOOD AT IT, I HATE HER.**

**She also simultaneously made fun of herself (a crazy northerner) and me (a Plains girl who's used to warmer climates). I find it utterly hilarious, you may not. Yer loss if you don't.**

**Okay, enjoy guys.**

***DISCLAIMER* RV makes no claim to ow Tremors or its characters. They are the property of S.S. Wilson and ScyFy Entertainment. No profit is made from this writing.**

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**Polar Plunge**

"Who the hell ever heard of graboids in the North East."

Tyler sat in the jeep with his knees to his chest and a blanket wrapped tightly around him. It wasn't Burt's jeep, but it was very similar, all open and military-ish, providing absolutely no warmth.

It's not like the tour guide-slash-monster hunter-slash-Burt handler had never been cold before. Desert nights could be freezing, and it's not like it never-ever snowed in Perfection. But he had NOT been prepared for this.

Burt gave him a sideways glance, pausing from piloting a remote-control-truck. "We actually know very little about the range of them, Tyler. Just because they first appeared in the desert doesn't mean that they won't reveal themselves to be able to survive in a multitude of environments. If they are one thing, they are adaptable."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "I just mean, with all the mountains and trees and so many PEOPLE."

He hadn't been prepared for how LONG this cold had lasted. They had been in this little Connecticut costal town for days, and it had only gotten colder. The sun came out, and it was freezing. The sun went down, and it got even worse. Did you know that there was such a thing as it being "too cold to snow"? Tyler had learned that the hard way. He had spent the majority of his life down South- he'd been cold, even freezing before, but right now he was literally cold down to his bones. And nothing he did could warm him up.

And those dumb weird-accented Northerners mocked him, going out in moderate jackets like it didn't really bother them, while all he wanted to do was wrap himself in a heated blanket. And wrap that in a comforter.

Burt just shrugged, turning his attention back to the RC car.

"How did they discover the worm again?" Tyler asked, clenching his jaw to stop the annoying chattering of his teeth.

Burt sighed loudly, giving his partner something akin to a glare. "How many times are you going to make me go over this?"

"As many times as I need to make it make some sense!" he said, finally giving up and covering his face with his blanket.

"Some of the locals were taking the 'polar plunge' and running into the ocean when one got snatched by a graboid," he mumbled.

Just the thought of that ice-cold ocean water made Tyler shiver harder. "I'm never calling you crazy again, Burt. These people have actually made you look completely sane."

"Hm," the survivalist replied distractedly. After a moment Tyler heard a rustling sound and felt something else drape over his shoulders. He peaked out from his tented blanket to see one of the thermal blankets they used to hunt shriekers wrapped around him. Burt had his back to him.

Tyler felt a bit warmer.

* * *

**No one make corrections about the fact that Burt's truck is a truck and not a jeep, iT'S TOO BEAUTIFUL SO WHO CARES?!**

**-rabidly fangirling Vlad out**


	2. BURT SHOWERS BRING TYLER FLOWERS

**Okay, so about aaaa month-ish? ago, TeeeeerrrrRumpy was thinkin' up idea fer wordless friendy moments between people in different shows. I came up with this one (I wanted the title to be "Burt Showers Bring Tyler Flowers" but nooooo, she wanted something un-clever and BORING. pffft). She writ it up today. It made me giggle, haha.**

* * *

**Cheering Up**

Tyler sat in the passenger side of the Power Wagon in silence. Burt drove the truck, having practically refused to say a word since he agreed to let his partner help him patrol the valley. Tyler wasn't quite sure what what was bothering the survivalist, but he seemed quite down.

The tour guide gazed out the side of the the vehicle as they drove when something caught his eye. He waved frantically for Burt to stop, and the man did so in confusion. As soon as they were stopped, Tyler quite literally jumped out, not bothering to use the door. As usual, this garnered an annoyed look from Burt.

Running a bit of a ways back, Tyler stopped in front of a patch of desert flowers. Creating a quick bouquet, he jogged back to the truck and presented them over the door to the driver with a bit of a flourish and a goofy grin. Burt snatched them away from him with a roll of his eyes. He motioned for Tyler to hurry up and get back in the Wagon, with maybe - maybe - the smallest hint of a smile.

* * *

***purposefully brings up so she has to write it***

**Next one is shall include KITTENS!**

**-V**


	3. Dillie pt 1

**SHE WROTE IT. I'M DYING. XD THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.**

* * *

**Perfect Friendship**

"What's the box for, Tyler?"

"Nancy told me it was the anniversary of ya surviving the first graboid attack today."

"Mm, so?"

"Thought it deserved a gift!"

Tyler held the carefully wrapped gift box in two hands. It was rather nice, with bright-colored paper and a red ribbon tied so that the top stayed on. "Plus, I couldn't help but think this bunker of yours needed some life so I needed an excuse to get you this."

Burt had an expression somewhat close to a scowl. "You got me a plant?" he asked.

"No, I saw how that worked out," Tyler said, motioning to Nancy's housewarming present sitting dead in a corner. He handed the box to his friend.

Burt got a good idea of what it was as soon as it was in his hands. He could feel something moving- make that stepping- around inside it. Frowning, he pulled the bow and took the top off the container.

A little cream face greeted him, twitching gossamer whiskers at him as it sniffed his fingers. Big copper-colored eyes turned onto him, and the scrap of fur offered him a tiny, "Mew".

"You got me a cat?" Burt said, shock on his face.

"Wrong again. I got ya a kitten. The cat part comes later," Tyler responded, watching the survivalist carefully.

The feline placed its two front paws, one of which was bright white, on the side of the box to stretch up and attempt to sniff his face. Burt stroked its back gently, carefully pushing it back down. "I don't need a cat, Tyler!"

"Sure ya do, Burt!" Tyler grinned. "This little girl will keep you company while yer here doing whatever the hell you do, and you won't have to set up any more mousetraps. Two birds with one stone! And while I'm more of a dog person myself, she's just the cutest thing I've ever seen."

"Be lyin' if I disagreed," he mumbled indignantly under his breath. "I don't have time for a pet."

"You've got plenty of time for a cat!" Tyler countered. "They don't need a ton of up-keep. Pretty self-sufficient. Don't really like people. Heck, Burt, you could be a cat yourself!"

The older monster hunter sent him a glare before looking back down at the cat. "Will you leave me alone if I agree to give it a try?" he had to admit, those big eyes were starting to sway him.

"Yep. But first, she needs a name."

"I don't know what to name it!"

"First thing that comes to mind, come on!"

"Thirty-aught Six."

"Shoulda seen that one coming. It's too long."

Burt sighed. "Fine! Dillinger."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Dillie's cute. Sure, Dillie."

"No. Dillinger."

"Dillie's cute," Tyler deadpanned.

* * *

**"The cat part comes later." Tyler, you are channeling Legolas, I swear.**


	4. Dillie pt 2

**Not exactly bromance between Burt and Tyler in this one, but still awesome.**

**Dillie, Part ll! (R said she's makin' a whole little story for her, hehe)**

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**Click Click**

"Oooooh, Burt!" Nancy said. "Is that Dillie?" she asked the survivalist as he entered Chang's with a box under one arm. He offered a short nod in response.

"How was Bixby?" Jodi asked from behind the counter.

Tyler spun in his chair to face his partner. "What were ya doin' in Bixby?"

Burt offered him something akin to a glare. "I was spending a good portion of my limited income on this kitten you made me take. I wasn't exactly prepared for Dillinger."

Tyler shrugged as Nancy asked, "Can I see her?"

Burt handed her the box, adding a tight, "Careful" under his breath.

"What did ya get fer her?" Tyler questioned while Nancy cooed over the small cream tabby.

"Everything I could think of," Burt said. "Food, bed, clicker," he listed.

Jodi raised an eyebrow at him. "'Clicker'?"

"For training," he replied.

"You can't train a cat with one of those. I'm pretty sure that only works on dogs," she said, handing him a coffee.

"Negative." He took a sip of his drink. "They can easily be trained just as well as dogs."

Tyler chuckled. "I knew you were a cat person, Burt."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he mumbled, sitting at Nancy's table, and Dillinger leapt out of the woman's arms onto his chest. A bit surprised and wincing at the tiny claws digging through his shirt, he pried her off slowly.

"Mean's yer anti-social."


	5. Pffft Canadians

**Lookit! I made a one shot! Ain't ya proud a me? XD**

**-Vlad**

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**Maple Snow Candy**

The wind was bone-chillingly cold and carried the frozen, fresh scent of snow. The town was silent, all sensible people curled up in their homes with hot chocolate while playing board games, watching Christmas specials, or sleeping in their warm beds. The only vehicle on the streets was a desert camouflaged truck with an open cab, leaving the occupants to the mercy of the weather.

Burt struggled between getting to the hotel as quickly as possible and not dying in a fiery crash on the icy streets. He may be a hardened survivalist in a winter coat with a blanket across his lap, but he wasn't made of whale blubber.

Tyler seemed more at ease in the passenger side. He leaned against the door, watching the twinkling snow on the ground slide past.

"You know," Tyler spoke up suddenly, lifting his head to look at his partner. "It's a pity we don't have any maple syrup right now. We should see if we can get some from one of the stores here. This snow looks perfect."

Burt nearly stopped the truck completely gazing back at him. A gust of wind reminded him to keep his foot pressed on the gas. The hotel was only another block. He could see it. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Maple taffy."

"What does maple taffy have to do with snow?"

Tyler rolled his eyes. "'Cause that's how you make it. Heat up the syrup, pour it onto the snow, let it goop up a bit, scoop it up, and eat it. I had it all the time when I was little."

Burt really did stop the truck this time, right at the entrance of the hotel parking lot, ignoring the frozen air gusting into his face, and just stared. Tyler blinked back at him.

"What?"

"That is the single most Canadian thing I have ever heard come out of your mouth."


	6. Ruh Roh

**So I wrote another one based off a certain joke thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat none of you know about yet. Enjoy~**

**-V**

* * *

**It Happened One Night**

Burt had no idea how Tyler found out. He never said. It was one of Burt's most closely guarded secrets that he never spoke about or hinted at even when he was alone in his bunker. No one had ever known the secret. No one was ever going to.

Until Tyler showed up at Burt's door in the middle of the night, holding an oversized Scooby-Doo doll in his arms. Burt almost hadn't even seen his partner behind the giant thing. Tyler had set it down in the doorway, gave Burt his best smile, and said:

"I won this for my date at the fair in Bixby, but she doesn't like Scooby-Doo. Weird, right? So I figured, since yer such a huge fan of the show, you'd like it. Good night."

And then he had gone, leaving Burt standing there with the life-sized stuffed dog with his mouth hanging open.


	7. Burt the Scribe

**V: *laughs victoriously in the background before squealing***

**R: WHADDYAKNOW. A Tremors fic?! **

**So, I've been posting a LOT over in the Forever fandom lately (can you blame me? It's nice getting some attention) but I haven't abandoned you Tremorites. I've been kind of forcing Vlad into being my posting slave lately so I wrote this up for her. I quite enjoyed it myself. Enjoy!**

* * *

_**Tell Me a Story**_

As Burt Gummer tied off the make-shift bandage over the gash in his partner's leg, he had to restrain himself from covering Tyler's mouth at the pained cry that escaped him. "Tyler, please, be quiet," he implored, looking towards the opening in the cave they were sheltered in. Rain poured down outside, though they were lucky enough to be higher up than the ground out there, and the inner cave was at most a bit damp.

At least they had caught one break.

"You try slowly bleeding to death and see how quiet you are," the tour guide grumbled, wincing. Burt sighed, watching worriedly as blood slowly soaked through his impromptu compress.

"Don't say that, Tyler," Burt practically growled. "You are going to be fine and I have enough to worry about."

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, shifting, only to grunt when a somewhat heavy weight landed on his chest. He shot his eyes open to see a cream, whiskered face and copper eyes staring at him. "Uhg, Dillie," he groaned. "Please."

Burt hefted the rather large female cat off of Tyler, telling her to stay at his side, where she promptly sat down.

"When I gave ya a cat," Tyler mumbled, closing his eyes again, "I didn't expect ya to bring her on assignments with us."

"Dillinger has proven to be a better companion than I anticipated," Burt countered, stroking the feline's back.

Tyler let out a breath. "Yer welcome," he said shortly through gritted teeth. Burt frowned nervously. "Geez, B, I don't like to complain, but... God, this hurts."

Burt put a hand on his friend's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. "I know, Ty. Just hold in there. Help should be coming soon."

Tyler looked up at him, taking in the rare comforting expression on the survivalist's face. It wasn't Burt's strong suit, but he was trying. "Could you just, keep talking? Please, to keep me focused on something else."

Burt looked a bit confused. "What do you want me to talk about?" he asked.

"Anything. I don't care. I don't even care if I don't understand what you're talking about," Tyler said. "Just anything."

Burt went quiet for a long moment - at least, it felt long to Tyler as he tried to ignore the pain in his leg and other areas of his body - before finally speaking. "Well, did I ever tell you about the time I made a very, very unusual friend?" he asked.

"Burt, I know how we met," Tyler responded with a weak, joking quality to his voice.

The survivalist just made a face through the gloom of the cave. "That's not what I meant. It's something that happened to me as a teenager."

"It's hard to imagine you as a kid. I'm pretty sure you were always this age."

Burt puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. "Tyler, you're the one who wants me to talk. You keep interrupting and I'll let Dillinger sit on your chest." At her name, the cat pricked her ears and looked towards her owner before stepping over to curl up in his lap.

"Fine, fine," Tyler huffed. "Just start the story already."

"So, it was 1973, I believe, because I was about sixteen," Burt began. "I was hunting whitetails with my uncle in Iowa - as I used to do every year up until my twenties - but this year was the first I didn't stick by him the whole time..."

_Burt Gummer moved quietly through the green woods, stepping lightly and casting his gaze around slowly. He listened intently and held his thirty-ought-six rifle levelly, taking in his surroundings as he had been taught to. A light breeze blew through and he turned, walking into it to keep himself down wind. He had been out for at the very least two hours without so much as a sight of a deer, and he was beginning to seriously doubt his ability to do this on his own._

_A sudden, familiar sound met his ears and he froze. He searched his field of vision, only moving his upper body to keep himself silent. Looking through his scope, he didn't see anything for a few tense moments and started to believe he imagined or mistook the noise. However, he caught a hint of tan pelt out of the corner of his eye and excitement leaped up inside him when a full-antlered buck stepped into his vision. Not able to believe his own luck, the teenager stared for a few seconds before remembering what he was to do. He leveled his rifle, steadying his breathing and peering down his scope at the animal. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he prepared for the shot as the deer nibbled at a fern._

_A sound from a nearby bush made the buck look up with a start and begin to take off. Burt swore under his breath as something blurred in front of him and knocked the whitetail from its feet._

_A large, tan feline gripped at the larger animal with claws as it's jaw's met is throat. The boy watched in frustration as the cat locked down on the buck's neck until it stopped kicking. He raised his weapon and peered down the scope at what he quickly recognized as a mountain lion, cursing it in a hushed tone. Before he could pull the trigger, the cougar looked up at him, amber colored eyes meeting his own brown ones. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats - he took in its tan coat, lithe body, a definite scar over one eye - before Burt lowered his gun with a huff._

_"Fair and square, I guess," he said out loud before turning and walking away._

"That's it? You just walked away? You really know how to choose a story, Burt," Tyler said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Burt glared at him. "That's not it, Tyler. Just listen."

_Burt returned to those same woods the following year. He was a year older, a bit taller, but otherwise unchanged. He used the same rifle, the same technique, and practically the same path. Even then, he showed himself as a man of habit, of preparation._

_He walked carefully, quietly, purposefully, constantly scanning the area for a flash of buckskin pelt. One wrong step left him cracking a twig under foot, and a second after he was struck by an eerie silence that passed over the forest. The bird song halted, the bugs no longer buzzes, and the only sound was a whistling breeze through the trees._

_That is, it was silent until a loud, angry huff sounded from directly behind him._

_The teenager stopped, turning around slowly. His eyes fell upon the dark, hairy form of a bear. A fairly large black bear to be precise. It let out a bone-shaking growl as it took a step towards him._

_Burt backed away, admittedly trembling slightly at the sudden, unexpected animal. It reared up and he tried to line up a shot, but the bear suddenly lunged forward, knocking the gun from his grasp with ease. Burt fell backwards in surprise, scrambling away through the leaf litter._

_What the young man could only describe as a screech filled the air. Burt looked around in shock, trying to place what the roar-like sound was when a tan blur smacked into the side of the animal attacking him. A familiar felid form scratched and bit at the bear until it decided to turn and flee._

_The mountain lion stood for a moment after the black bear fled, turning its eyes to Burt. He instantly recognized the amber eyes, one of which was marked over with a long scar. After staring at him for half a moment, the puma took off with fluid movement similar to running water._

_Burt just sat there, watching where the cat had disappeared as he collected himself._

"Oooh." Tyler nodded. "I get it now."

Burt silenced him with a glance.

_The following year, Gummer returned to the woods, this time keeping out a purposeful eye for the cougar that he now felt he owed his life to. He hadn't told a soul about the cat - it was no one's business but his and the lion's - and he wondered if he would have another fleeting encounter with her. He didn't know what exactly gave him the impression it was a female, but he felt that to be its gender._

_When he had gotten a buck around noon that day, he lost hope of encountering the mountain lion, however. He had just begun to gut and bleed the animal when, lo and behold, she seemed to appear out of nowhere in front of him. Amber eyes barely glancing over him and his kill, she walked on past and he felt the sudden need to track her. After her he went._

_Leaving his buck with the hope it would be there when he came back, he followed her to a rocky outcropping. He looked around for her, catching a tan tail disappear into a hole dug out underneath the stone. Watching and waiting, she exited what he assumed to be a den quickly after. She slunk away and he cautiously approached the outcrop. Peering into the hole, he saw nothing for a moment._

_When his eyes adjusted slightly, though, three little silhouettes stood out to him. A little speckled face poked out into the light, sniffed at him, and then pulled back._

_He was right. She was a she, and she was a mother._

_Burt backed away and retraced his steps back to his buck. When he got to back to the body, he stared at it momentarily before grabbing it by an antler and dragging it in the direction of the den. He abandoned the carcass not far away from the cubs and watched it just long enough to see the lioness find it._

"Yer such a softie, Burt," Tyler said with a grin. At his partner's continued silence, he added, "No, seriously. It's adorable. I can totally see why yer a cat person."

The survivalist glanced down at the purring tabby curled up on his legs. "Hm, I suppose I see what you're talking about." Bringing his eyes back to his partner's, he was relieved to see the bleeding seemed to have pretty much stopped. "Is it still hurting bad?"

"Well, yeah," Tyler said. "But that helped. Keep going."

"But that's the overall end of the story."

"Did you ever see her again?" Tyler prodded. "Did her cubs survive?"

"I thought I saw her again two years later," Burt answered, "but I was never positive that it was, in fact, her. And I did see another mountain lion that year, it was younger and definitely not her."

Tyler nodded slowly. "Okay. Come on, keep talking, tell me another story."

Burt resigned himself to the realization this would likely go on all night. It was for his partner, though, and he owed him that much for getting him into this mess. "Let me think for a moment, Tyler. Did I ever tell you how graboids were discovered?" The younger monster hunter smiled and shook his head. "It all started on a Monday in 1989. The town was much the same as it is today. Same store, Nancy lived in the same house, I still lived up on the hill, Melvin was still a little turd, and we were all still scraping to get by. Our two handymen, Earl Basset and Val McGee, decided they wanted to get out of town..."

* * *

**V: By the way, I'm workin' on an installment of this too, next chapter shall be HILARIOUS. Stay tuned.**


	8. All Hail the Toaster

**VLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD HEEEEEERE! Obviously. 'Cause I gave Rumpy away in one of those Forever fics of hers, so she's not here anymore.**

**Annnywho, lookit! Beautiful words below. Read them. And then someone draw them, because holy cheese that would be awesome.**

**Also, any of our followers Slugterra fans? Just curious.**

* * *

_**Toast From Hell**_

Toasters are sneaky little shits.

Burt was already a little high-strung on a normal day. Throw a new creature in the mix and he would go into full on paranoid, did-you-hear-that, survivalist mode. Which usually annoyed his fellow town folk, even though they knew his rather eccentric ways _were _good for surviving the many invasions.

Even so, Tyler couldn't help his heavy sigh when he saw his friend pull into town, armed to the teeth and ready to drag him out on patrol. The sun hadn't even crossed the mountains yet.

Knowing he'd be hard pressed to delay the man for more than five minutes, Tyler threw some bread in a toaster and grabbed his boots. He wouldn't have time for a better breakfast.

"Morning, Tyler!" Burt said as he walked in, a cheery tone in his voice.

"Burt," Tyler muttered in return.

"You almost ready? Whatever tore up Nancy's garden yesterday probably spent the night somewhere nearby. I wanna find it before it gets too far."

"Yeah, just a-"

Both the toaster and Burt cut him off at nearly the same time. The toasted bread popped up randomly and suddenly, as toast often did. Burt, who had been standing right beside the appliance and unaware it was on, jumped right along with the toast, knocking the appliance in the process and making the bread fly up towards his face. He stepped back in surprise, tripping over his feet and onto the floor. It was all over in a second.

It was the scream though, that did Tyler in, had him clutching his sides and gasping for breath. The startled scream that had started out normal enough but had quickly turned into an inhuman screech of horror that would've done a shrieker proud.

Burt scrambled back to his feet. His face was bright red as he tried to collect himself, embarrassed that a damn _toaster_ had gotten the best of him. It was hard though, with Tyler laughing. He stared dejectedly at his partner in fits on the bed. Tyler would not stop anytime soon, he knew, so Burt didn't bother trying to glare him into silence. His face didn't want to obey him anyway.

Gathering what little dignity he had left, Burt hurried from the garage and back to his truck. Tyler listened to the roar of the engine as the survivalist all but fled the town. He couldn't breathe and his eyes were blinded by tears, but he didn't care. Every cloud had a silver lining. Some had two.


	9. WATER WEENIES

**OMCHEESE, GUYS, LOOK, WE WROTE _TREMORS! _And yes, I said we, I WROTE STUFF, IN YER FACE. I'm having Rumpy help me write, 'cause I've been sucking at even trying lately, like I dunno what's wrong with me. So we (I, really) decided to collab on some ONE-SHOTS! We only got one written 'cause near the end I disappeared for like, two and a half hours. Only meant to be gone fer thirty minutes, but I get back an Des was here, an I had to help her with her tires, and then walk home with her to see her plants and her pajamas and Godzilla was roaring in the living room and I was like 'whoah, never actually seen this before' and I didn't get home to finally eat my supper 'til 22.30, 23.30 to xyr, so xe was in bed by then, obviously.**

**And while this was supposed to be a random one-shot, we ended up deciding on CUTE BROMANCE, so it's here. Nerp.**

**Annnnnnnnnywho, I slapped on an ending to this, gave it a title, and here I am. Enjoy, y'all!**

* * *

__**Vacation**

Even monster hunters need a break every now and then. When you live in a moderately chaotic, sometimes life-threatening desert valley, occasionally you just need to get away for a bit. Where better to escape the desert than on water?

Not that Burt could have chosen anywhere else if he wanted. Tyler had never stopped complaining about Burt not taking him fishing ever since he found the boat. So, to kill two birds with one stone, Burt decided they would spend a free weekend at Lake Tahoe.

They weren't exactly doing a ton of fishing though. That is, Tyler wasn't interested at the moment. His younger partner sat back on a plastic lawn chair he had purchased for this occasion, a radio sitting beside him blaring a country station. He animatedly sang along to the old Charles Daniels song.

"_When the Devil finished, Johnny said, 'Well, you're pretty good ol' son, But sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done.' Fire on the Mountain. Run, boys, run! The Devil's in the house of the rising sun; Chicken's in the bread pan picking out dough. Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no."_

"Must you sing so loudly?" Burt asked, only half-irritated. He was too relaxed to get mad.

"Ya bet I must," Tyler replied with a big grin. "I'm making the most of every minute of this. It's been like, two years since I've been able ta blast some music. It's not exactly safe to do it back in town."

Burt rolled his eyes and turned back to his fishing pole. Neither of them had had a bite in over an hour. He didn't really mind. It was still relaxing. Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and listened to Tyler's not-entirely-unpleasant voice sing the last verse of the song before the commercial break. It was funny how it didn't get on his nerves. With anyone else, he'd have tossed the radio into the water long ago. He guessed he'd just been living with Tyler too long.

The tour guide stood as the commercials took over the broadcast, stretching out his limbs, which had tightened up a bit from sitting. "I'm surprised you don't come out here more often, Burt," he commented, stepping over to stand beside his partner and lean against the side of the boat. "This is a nice change of pace."

Burt hummed in agreement. "I guess I just forget to when I have time."

"I guess I'll just have to remind ya to have some fun more often," Tyler responded, with just the hint of a lilt in his voice as a smirk crossed his face.

It took the lazy survivalist a few seconds to register the verbal warning. By then it was too late.

It wasn't too hard. Burt was leaned far back in his chair and it was placed right near the open back of the boat. All Tyler did was give a well-placed shove with foot and SPLASH!

Burt came up sputtering, glaring, and soaking. Tyler was still laughing when he got to the edge of the boat. With a mischievous smirk, Burt reached up and grabbed Tyler's ankle, yanking him into the water with him.

Tyler came up coughing but still laughing. "So that's how it's going to be then, huh, B?" he chuckled, skimming his arm across the surface of the water to send a spray at the survivalist.

Within seconds they were in an all-out water war. Several people in a passing boat stared curiously at the two grown men, one of who looked an awful lot like that serious survivalist on TV, wrestling around like children and trying to be the first out of the water. Neither of them noticed, and if they did they didn't care. As Tyler dunked Burt under the surface again, using his head as a foothold to clamber up to the deck where he howled his victory, Burt couldn't help but grin.

He couldn't have chosen a vacation anywhere else if he wanted, but honestly, there wasn't anywhere else he'd rather be.


	10. Angsty Tacos

**YO PEEPS! Es ist ich, Vlad, wieder zurück. I finally writ something! More specifically, Rumpy's bromance bit xe asked for ages ago. Prepare for angst!**

* * *

_**A Fair Betrayal**_

This was a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. His head was swimming, his stomach was floating, and he was pretty sure the world would never stop spinning. What had he done to deserve this? Be a good friend, be supportive. And this was how he was thanked?

"Burt? You okay, man?" Tyler's voice barely registered to his ears. He sounded worried. Concerned. As if he hadn't _meant_ for this to happen.

_'Go away,'_ he groaned mentally, not sure the words made it out of his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to steady the ground.

Tyler sighed heavily and Burt could practically hear him run his hand through his hair. The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he squatted down. Burt's silent mantra to be left alone went ignored.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't warn you." A pause. "Though to be fair, you kinda asked for it."

Burt turned his head enough to fix his so-called partner with a steely glare. Betrayed, tricked, and lied to by one of the people he trusted most in the world and he had _asked_ for it? Tyler's eyes danced with hidden amusement. Burt felt revolted. What kind of monster was this man?

Tyler leaned in closer and smirked. "Not to mention, Mr. ToughGuy, the ride is called the _Dizzy Dragons_. Was the name not enough of a hint for you?"

Burt's eyes closed again as he curled up over his stomach with a groan. _'Oh God, just let me die.'_

Tyler clapped him on the back and stood up, laughing freely now. "I'll get you some water. Try not to puke on rest of the tickets. And next time, don't steal my tacos."

Terrible, terrible, _terrible_ mistake.

* * *

**Just to be clear in case it's called differently in other places, Fair=Carnival.**

**Get the title now? Hehe.**

**Hope the angst works for ya, T.**

**-Vlad out**


	11. Motor Bros

**R: I got hit with a short post-T5 story idea of MOTORCYCLES.**

**V: This is less BuTy and more like...VisLer (is that a car brand? it sounds like a car brand).**

**R: VisLer? But why not TyTra?**

**V: Because I wanted them to have the same amount of letters and TyTra and TylTra just don't have a good ring. VisLer so does though.**

**R: I still don't think VisLer is straight-forward enough. It goes against our previous naming style. JoLa, BuTy, CaRo. VisLer ain't right.**

**V: Because Vis and Ler are straightforward people? Please.**

**R: *looks into the camera like on The Office* Thinks they know everything.**

**V: *throws a pie in your face and runs off***

**R: WHAT IS THIS, APPLE? I TOLD YOU I PREFER PUMPKIN PIE.**

**V: WHY WOULD I WASTE PERFECTLY GOOD PUMPKIN PIE?**

* * *

Two motorcycles tore through the sandy valley floor, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. They swerved past bushes and rocks and other obstacles, even leaping over ones they couldn't avoid in time, as they tried to overtake each other. One pulled ahead, the other hot on its tail, its helmeted driver hunched over and trying to gain ground.

The lead driver took a second to shoot a glance over his shoulder before suddenly veering off to the side. Clearly taken off-guard, his tail swerved to follow, having to take a wider berth and loosing a few feet in his chase.

Speeding after, he glanced around only momentarily when they entered the valley's canyons. The driver ahead of him turned and skidded to a sudden halt as he approached the end of a box canyon, but his follower was clearly prepared, driving around him before pulling to a stop and removing his helmet.

"You okay, Trav?" Tyler Reed asked with a smirk as the man pulled himself out from under his bike.

Yanking off his own helmet, Travis Welker returned the look and righted his motorcycle. "Hey, I might not 'know the terrain' as well as you and Pops do yet, but I had you beat, Reed."

"Ya may have the edge on two wheels," Tyler agreed with a knowing grin, "but you've got nothing on me when it comes to four."

"Wanna bet?" Travis challenged, raising a competitive eyebrow at the tour guide. "Winner gets two weeks offa patrols with Burt."

"Yer on," he responded, starting to jump back on his bike. "I call the Power Wagon."

"I think that's reserved for first back to town," Travis replied, putting his helmet back on as he got back on the motorcycle and kicked on the engine.

In an instant, he was off, Tyler not far behind.

* * *

**V: Personally, I don't really like Travis in the movie, I think he was written weirdly and annoying, but I like the idea of him and I can so totally see IdeaTravis and Tyler racing each other all the time an schnizz. It's beautiful and I love it.**


End file.
